Novices No Longer
by Elf Eye
Summary: Another in "The Nameless One" series. Set after "To The West."
1. The Moment Arrives

**The Moment Arrives**

            Elladan and Elrohir had come close to disgracing themselves during their latest lesson with Erestor, and the older Elf had muttered direly that he ought to set them some extra tasks as punishment.  So when Elladan and Elrohir spotted Erestor coming into the garden, they tried to slip into an arbor before he could corral them.  He was too quick for them, however.

"Elladan, Elrohir, your father wishes to speak with you."

The twins couldn't pretend that they hadn't heard him, and they reluctantly turned back. 

"He also wishes to see Anomen.   Where might he be?"

"He is with Doron," answered Elladan.

Erestor wrinkled his brow as he tried to bring that Elf's face to mind.  Reluctantly he had to concede that he could not remember who he was.

"Doron? Hmmm.  I don't recall anyone in Imladris named Doron.  Is this Doron a visitor from Lothlórien?"

The twins tried to keep straight faces.

"No, Erestor," replied Elrohir.  "Doron's roots in Imladris are deep, and he laid them down long ago."

Now Erestor was really bothered; how could he forget the face of an Elf who had long been a dweller in Elrond's realm?"

Softly he murmured to himself, "Doron's roots in Imladris are deep, and he laid them down long ago."  Suddenly the truth dawned on him.

"You scamps," he cried, "this Doron is a tree, an _oak_ tree, is he not?

The twins laughed, and Erestor could not keep himself from smiling.

"Very well, as you are so well acquainted with Anomen's friend, it is up to you to pay a visit to this Doron to inform him that he must make do without Anomen's company for a time.  Your Adar awaits you, so hurry!"

The twins obediently ran from the garden through the gate that led to the forest.  After Anomen had created such an uproar by running away—and inadvertently taking Arwen with him!—Elrond had agreed that there were certain well-patrolled spots near the Hall where the young Elf could seek sanctuary whenever he wished to be alone—as long as he told someone where he was going, of course.  This compromise suited everyone.

Elladan and Elrohir came to the base of mighty oak whose branches provided many places for Anomen to perch in comfort.  Peering up, they caught sight of him stretched out on a limb high above.  He had been reading, but now he was looking down at the twins.  They had not been trying to be quiet as they approached the tree, knowing as they did that, no matter how softly they moved, they were unlikely to succeed in creeping up on Anomen.  Even if they had managed to evade his notice—his hearing was acute even for that of an Elf—no doubt Doron would have alerted him that someone or something was approaching.

"Anomen," called Elladan.  "Erestor sends word that our Ada wants to see all three of us."

"Yes," shouted Elrohir, "and you'd better hurry.  If you don't return to the Hall promptly, I've no doubt that Glorfindel will send out a search party for you!"  The twins smirked.  Anomen still felt a little awkward around the warrior-elf whom he'd led on more than one futile chase.

            Anomen swung from branch to branch and gracefully dropped to the ground beside the twins.  "I made sure to tell Glorfindel where I was going," he declared, a look of concern on his face.

            "Anomen," said Elladan, "you should know that Elrohir is _never to be taken seriously!"_

            The three turned and strolled back toward the Hall, speculating as they went as to why the elf-lord had summoned them.

            "It can't be about this morning's lesson with Erestor," declared Elladan.  Anomen was prepared, so Ada would not need to speak with him about that."

            "Maybe," opined Elrohir, "Glorfindel was not satisfied with the job that we did polishing the swords and the shields."

            "Maybe," mused Anomen, "we were supposed to have polished the helmets as well."

            "No," objected Elladan, "I distinctly remember that Glorfindel mentioned only the swords and the shields."

            "Ah," replied Elrohir, "but does _Glorfindel__ distinctly remember mentioning only the swords and the shields?  If he doesn't, we can forget about horseback riding this afternoon."  The other two nodded glumly in agreement._

            By this time the three had arrived back at the Hall, and they quickly made their way to the room in which Elrond conducted all the business of the realm.

            Elrond arose from his seat as they entered the room, and the three stood facing him.  This was not to be an informal discussion.

            "I have been discussing with Glorfindel the status of the warriors-in-training.  He informs me that each of you has made excellent progress.  You in particular," he said, turning to Anomen, "daily demonstrate exceptional skill with the bow and arrow.  But all of you," he continued, "display great maturity of technique—"

"—although," he added, as the faces of the three lit up, "you do not always demonstrate a maturity of action commensurate with the skill you demonstrate on the training fields."  Elrond was grimly pleased to see that the smiles vanished, replaced by looks of shamefaced self-awareness.

"Nevertheless," Elrond continued, "it is Glorfindel's judgment that the three of you are ready to go on patrol." 

Stunned but delighted, each young Elf grinned at the other two.  Elrond, however, hastened to put a damper on their high spirits.

            "You will, of course, patrol no further than three days' ride from Rivendell, and you will be expected to stay within the nucleus of the company.  No gallivanting off on your own."  Here Elrond directed a particularly hard look at Anomen.  "If you should encounter an enemy, you are not to engage in any heroics.  You will be more of a hindrance than an aid to your companions if you cast yourselves impetuously into the thick of battle.  In any skirmish, Glorfindel would rather that you fall back and provide cover with your bows; otherwise, he will be excessively distracted by concern for your well-being."

            All three Elves nodded, their heads bobbing up and down in their enthusiasm.  Elrond looked at them doubtfully, however.  He knew they were _listening, of course, but had they actually _heard_ anything that he had said?  He sighed inwardly.  Well, it couldn't be helped.  No matter how long warriors-in-training were forced to wait, the younglings could not help but feel keen excitement when first sent on patrol.  Making them wait until they came of age would make no difference.  Better to get it over with and hope that the first few patrols would be peaceful ones.  Ideally, these novice warriors would become familiar with the more routine aspects of scouting so that they would be somewhat less green when it came time for their first real taste of warfare.  Yes, he thought, it would be too much to expect that they would be fully matured before they were thrown into battle, but at least he could hope that they would be a little less naïve when that inevitable moment arrived._

            Elrond drew himself out of his reverie and looked at the young Elves standing before him.  They were whispering excitedly amongst themselves.  Elrond cleared his throat.  They jumped and turned back toward him, guilty expressions on their faces.  Elrond smiled a little to reassure them.

            "I know that you are excited, and I know that you will find it hard to contain your excitement.  I felt so the first time I went on patrol several millennia ago."

            Elrohir and Elladan could not resist rolling their eyes a trifle at these words of fatherly wisdom, but they quickly grew grave when Elrond stared pointedly at them, his eyebrows arched.

            "Go and pack your saddle bags and see that your weapons are in order.  I will bid you farewell now, as you will be leaving well before dawn."  He bowed to them.

Suddenly at a loss for words, the young Elves returned the bow.  Elrond turned and strode from the room.  As thrilled as they had been only moments before, the younglings now felt that this moment had arrived too abruptly.  With no greater ceremony, on the morrow they were to join the ranks of the warriors.


	2. Hours of Boredom, Moments of Terror

**Hours of Boredom, Seconds of Terror**

The patrol had ridden three days out from Rivendell and set up a camp from which scouts would make sorties for the next two weeks. To their chagrin, Anomen, Elladan, and Elrohir were not to be numbered amongst the scouts. Instead, they had to remain in and near the camp, where their time was occupied with such tasks as water-hauling, wood-collecting, and squirrel-skinning. When Elladan begged Glorfindel to allow them to accompany a party of scouts, he had sternly replied that the everyday chores of cooking and cleaning were a part of the warrior's life. "Each novice must take his turn at these tasks before he is allowed to indulge in other pursuits," he had declared.

"So here we sit scrubbing and polishing," Elladan complained to Elrohir and Anomen. "We might as well have stayed home; at least we'd be polishing armor rather than kettles—and not for nearly as long each day, neither."

The other two sadly nodded in agreement. Exchanging their comfortable room and hours of freedom for an uncomfortable bedroll and days of washing dishes was not their idea of a fair trade.

"We need more scouring rushes," Elrohir announced. "These pots are hopelessly greasy, and I swear Thoron must have burned this pan on purpose just to vex us."

Anomen arose and stretched his cramped legs. "I'll go. Elladan went last time, and you went the time before." He strode off toward the stream from which they had been fetching both water and rushes. When he reached it, he set about collecting some of the horsetails that grew on the margin of the stream. When he had gathered a tidy bundle, he laid his hand on a sapling to hoist himself back up the bank. When he did so, he realized with a shock that the slender tree was trembling. "What makes you quake so?" Anomen wondered, but the tree was too young to give voice to its fears. Listening intently now, Anomen was suddenly aware that no bird sang and that the forest instead echoed with the anxious whispers and murmurs of troubled trees. Something was out there, something fearsome.

Moving in a half-crouch, flitting from the cover of one trunk to the next, Anomen made his cautious way back in the direction of the camp. He was only halfway there when he heard a crash, followed by the crack of something hard hitting a tree. And then he heard a voice cry, "Elro—." Anomen went momentarily cold and motionless. One twin had been cut off shouting the name of the other. After taking a deep breath, Anomen resumed his careful approach to the camp.

He paused at the bushes that surrounded the clearing and peered into the space where he had left his friends. A struggle clearly had taken place—kettles and bedrolls were tossed about randomly—and several assailants were involved, for the ground was marked by many footprints which differed in size and shape, proving that more than one individual had been present. Now, however, the camp was utterly deserted. At first, Anomen did not know whether to be glad or sad. Elladan and Elrohir were not in the camp, but neither were their bodies. They were not safe, but they were not dead, either. Anomen decided that he was neither sad nor glad, merely relieved—and only partially. The twins had been taken but were yet alive. Now what to do? Should he wait here until the scouts came back? That would mean a delay of hours, mayhap even of an entire day. The scouts typically scoured the forest until the light failed and did not return to the camp until well after dark, when it would probably be too late for them to pick up the trail. It might be the morrow before they set out to rescue the twins. He could instead try to track down a party of scouts, but much time would still pass before the hunt for the missing Elves could commence. He would have to locate the scouts, and then the warriors would have to return to the camp to pick up the trail. What alternative was left? Should he himself go off in pursuit of the twins and their abductors? But what could he do alone against assailants who had overpowered both Elladan and Elrohir?

Irresolute, Anomen stepped into the middle of the camp, looking for he knew not what. Something there must be, some sign, that would tell him what to do. His eyes wandered to the pine tree he and his friends had been sitting under as they scrubbed the dishes that morning. He inhaled sharply. Blood ran down the trunk. He stepped closer and saw a bloodied tunic discarded at the base of the tree. It was Elladan's, and a long strip had been torn from it. Instantly Anomen knew that the strip had been ripped off in order to bandage Elladan's wounds, whether by Elrohir or by their captors he could not know. But one thing he did know: he must follow them straightaway. He was here; he could set out straightaway. He did not know what he would do once he caught up with his friends and his foes, but of one thing he was certain: delay would be fatal.


	3. From Predator to Prey

By the Valar, I have people I must thank for their encouragement!  I'm going to sound like Sally Fields during her send-up of her Academy Awards speech in that commercial for Charles Schwab:  "You like me, you really like me, you really really like me!"

"O.K. here goes." (The nominee takes crumpled piece of paper from her pocket).  "I'd like to thank _MoroTheWolfGod_, and I'd like to thank _Star Lit Hope_, and, oh yes, I'd like to thank _Tinnuial, and, oh, don't let me forget __dragonfly32." (The music begins to swell and the emcee forces her off the stage.)_

Vocabulary

Berenmaethor—Bold Warrior

Ceorl (pronounced 'churl')—a person of low class during Anglo-Saxon times;

becomes the modern name 'Carl' or 'Karl'

Taurmeldir—Forest Friend

Thoron—Eagle

**From Predator To Prey**

            Glorfindel knelt on the ground, turning a bloody tunic over and over in his hands.

            "It is Elladan's, I think," said Taurmeldir.

            "Yes," said Glorfindel.  "I believe you are right.  He at least has been wounded, although it would also appear that his injury was bandaged before he was dragged away."

            Berenmaethor approached holding weapons in his hands.  "They were taken by surprise.  They never had a chance to pick up their weapons."

Glorfindel took the weapons from Berenmaethor and studied them intently.  "Here are only two sets of weapons; where is the third?"

"I found only two sets.  Anomen's weapons are missing."

"Why would only Anomen's weapons be missing?" asked Taurmeldir.  "If their attackers wished to steal weapons, why would they not take all the bows and knives that they found?  The twins' weapons are as well-made and valuable as Anomen's."

"Perhaps," replied Glorfindel, "Anomen's weapons were not stolen.  Perhaps he is carrying them."

"But surely the abductors would not permit Anomen to hold on to his weapons," exclaimed Berenmaethor.

  "No, they would not, but perhaps Anomen did not seek their permission to do so."

The two other Elves looked at Glorfindel blankly.

"I think," Glorfindel continued, "it is likely both that Anomen carries his weapons and that he has not been taken captive.  If I read these signs aright, Anomen left the camp later than the others.  We can see no trace of Elladan's and Elrohir's footprints, either because they were carried off or because, if walking, they were in the midst of their enemies, whose footprints have obscured their own.  But, see here, where the mark of a small elven foot is pressed within the larger mark left by one of the assailants.  Had Anomen been a captive, his footprints would have been trampled and obliterated by the guards who no doubt would have been trodding on his heels.  This mark is quite clear and sharp.  And look, here are other small elven footprints in a trail leading away from the camp."

"Why are you so sure that these are Anomen's footprints," asked Berenmaethor, "and not those of one of the others?"

"I judge these to be Anomen's footprints both because he is the smallest of the three and because it is his weapons that are missing.  Anomen is free, as well as in all likelihood unharmed, and he has gone in pursuit of the twins and their captors."

"But that is madness," protested Taurmeldir.  "Anomen is naught but a novice!  Whatever could have possessed him to do something so reckless?"

Glorfindel put down the weapons and picked up the bloodied tunic.  Thoughtfully he pulled the cloth through his fingers.  "I think I know why," he said softly.  "The blood on this tunic is quite dry.  The attack like as not took place soon after we left the camp.  Knowing that one of the twins at least was injured, Anomen chose not to wait for our return."  Glorfindel arose and called to Thoron, who stood with a cluster of warriors who anxiously awaited orders.

"Thoron, you are by far the fastest rider.  Ride to Rivendell and inform Lord Elrond that the twins have been seized by enemies and that Anomen is free but astray in the forest."

Thoron ran to his horse, vaulted onto it, and galloped out of the clearing.

"You others will come with us.  Never mind packing.  We'll retrieve anything needful upon our return.  Speed is of the greatest importance now.  Ai! Why must the moon be covered with clouds on this of all nights!?  But we will not delay.  We will lead our horses and go slowly so as not to miss any tracks."

With Glorfindel in the lead, the Elves filed out of the clearing.  To Glorfindel's relief, even without light the trail was quite clear because their enemies had made no effort to cover their tracks.  And again and again Glorfindel came upon Anomen's footprints pressed boldly into the center of impressions made by heavy boots.  Glorfindel smiled.  This was no accident, he was certain.  Anomen was sending a message as surely as if he had written one.  After a time, Glorfindel felt so sure of the trail that he gave the order to mount up, and the company of Elves began to move more swiftly.

Anomen had never been unsure of the trail.  He had set out so soon after the attack that he had caught up with the twins' abductors almost immediately.  For the entire day he had trailed alongside them.  As dusk fell, the band stopped to make camp.  Anomen hid in the midst of a thicket watching the comings and goings of his opponents and looking for an opportunity to rescue his friends.  As he observed his foes carefully, what he learned both relieved and worried him.  This was no band of warriors.  They had no desire to kill the two young Elves whom they had captured.  That relieved him.  Instead, their raid was for the purpose of capturing slaves.  For the band was made up of Southron traders and the Dunlending hunters they had hired as guides.  That worried him.  First, Elladan and Elrohir were in the hands of  slavers; second, one of the Dunlendings was a man whom Anomen remembered all too well, the Dunlending with the cudgel who would have gladly thrashed Anomen to within an inch of his life, profit be damned.  Now this Dunlending was holding forth loudly to his compatriots at one fire as the Southrons silently huddled around a second one.  Elladan and Elrohir lay on the ground midway between the two groups.  Each was bound hand and foot, and Elladan had a bloody rag wrapped around his head.

"'Tis quite a catch, wouldn'ya say, boys?  Twins!  There's gotta be some extry value there, doncha think?"

His listeners mumbled their assent.

"Mayhap our frien's here'll see fit to gi' us a bit o' a bonus, seein' as we've led 'em to sich a prize."  Shifty-eyed, the Dunlending shot a fleeting glance at the Southrons, but they gave no sign that they had heard him.

"An' mayhap we kin do business in t'future.  There's a golden-haired elf-brat hidin' about some'ere in this 'ere kingdom—be worth quite a bit if we could lay our han's on 'im."

            Anomen shuddered to think what would happen if the Dunlending were to learn that he was hidden within easy reach—and he also suddenly appreciated Elrond's desire that he not wander about alone.

            His companions began to mock the Dunlending at the mention of the "elf-brat."

            "I wouldn'a thought yuh'd wanter see that 'un again, Ceorl.  Didn'ee hurt yuh where yuh keep yer brains?"

            Ceorl snarled at the speaker and threw a bone at him.

            "Shut yer trap—caught me by suhprise, 'ee did—won' never get  t'jump on me again—ye can be sure o' that!"

            Hoots greeted this announcement.  Furious, Ceorl got up and stalked into the forest, brushing by the thicket as he did so.  After awhile he returned to the fire and unrolled his blanket.  Soon he was deeply and noisily asleep.  His companions followed suit, and soon only snores could be heard coming from the mouths of the Dunlendings.  The Southrons stayed up later, talking quietly amongst themselves.  After awhile, one of the Southrons stood up and walked over to the Dunland fire.  Coming to a halt beside Ceorl, the Southron pushed him with the toe of his boot.  Ceorl snorted and rolled over, but he did not wake.  The Southron looked over at his companions and nodded.  They silently arose and joined him at the Dunland fire.  Each drew a knife.

            "Are you sure about this?" one said softly.

            "Yes.  These Dunland scum will try to rob us of our captives, you can be sure of that.  At the very least they will try to force us to pay more than the price we agreed upon for their help.  Moreover, they have shown us the way into Imladris; we will not need their services in the future.  We are on the borders of this realm and will soon be shut of it and in the clear.  We shall travel back to Harad by another path, and when these thieves do not return to their village, no doubt their deaths will be blamed on the Elves.  So, you see, we have nothing to lose and everything to gain."

            The other Southrons nodded their assent.

            Each knelt beside one of the Dunlendings.  Anomen shut his eyes, but he had helped butcher enough game to recognize the wet, sucking sound of blade cutting through flesh.  He covered his ears to block out the gurgling noises as the life bled from each of the Dunlendings.  He had feared and despised the Dunlendings—but he had never wished such a fate for them.

            Soon the Southrons arose and returned to their fire, leaving the bodies of the Dunlendings sprawled beside their dying fire.  The leader grunted in satisfaction.  "Now we can sleep without fear of being troubled by these riffraff."

            "We are near the border of Imladris, but we are not clear of it yet.  Shouldn't we set a watch?" asked one.

            "It is certain," replied the leader, "that the scouts from that camp have no hope of catching up with us before we reach the border.  Still, we will set a watch.  Perhaps a stray Elf will stumble upon us during the night, and it would be a shame to forfeit a chance for more profit.  And, since you have shown so much concern, _you may take the first watch."  The other Southrons shouted with laughter.  The object of their laughter grumbled good-naturedly and took up a position right beside the bound captives, with his back to Anomen._

            At first the guard remained alert, glancing about him frequently and even walking the perimeter of the camp to peer into the trees.  At long last, the guard sat down beside the prisoners, drumming his fingers upon his boots to keep himself alert.  Finally his fingers grew still, his shoulders slumped, and his head rested upon his chest.  Anomen took several deep breaths.  He knew what he had to do.

            Quietly he wormed his way out of the thicket and stole toward the sleeping guard, clutching his knife in his hand so tightly that his knuckles were white.  When he reached the guard, Anomen knelt down behind him.  One last deep breath and he was ready to act.  With one fluid motion, he slashed the Southron's throat.  The slaver jerked and slumped over, his limbs twitching.  He gasped and gurgled.  In a panic, Anomen clamped his hands over the dying man's mouth.  At last the Southron lay still.  Anomen removed his hands.  They were covered with a froth of saliva and blood.

            Suddenly Anomen heard a gasp.  Hastily he leapt to his feet and spun around.  No one was behind him.  Then he glanced at the captives.  Elladan's eyes were closed, but Elrohir's horrified gaze was fixed upon him.

TBC


	4. From Pursuer To Pursued

Thank you, _farflung.  You, too, _dragonfly32_.  I think I'm getting addicted to reviews.  I get some and immediately I want more.  So…._

**From Pursuer To Pursued**

For a long moment the two Elves stared at each other.  It was Elrohir who spoke first.

"Anomen," he whispered, "what are you doing here?  They'll catch you!  And after this"—he nodded at the body of the Southron—"they'll torture you, maybe even kill you!"

Anomen knelt beside his friend and cut his bonds.  "I'd think it would be obvious what I'm doing," he whispered back.  "I've come for you and Elladan."

"Anomen, Ada said no heroics!"

Anomen stared at him.  It had never entered his mind that he was doing anything 'heroic'.  He hadn't bravely flung himself into battle.  Instead, he had crept along as best he could, biding his time, waiting for an opportunity not to perform a noble deed but to steal away with his friends.  Would Elrond think this 'heroic'?  Ai! How many shields would he have to polish now!?

With a sigh, Anomen turned to Elladan and cut the ropes binding his hands and feet.  Elrohir was sitting up and rubbing his wrists and his ankles, but Elladan did not move.

"Anomen, Elladan won't be able to escape, and I will not leave him!  Please go!  You can't help us, and you're only putting yourself in danger!"

"The two of us can carry Elladan."

"We won't be able to outrun those Southrons!"

"Yes, we will."

"Carrying Elladan!?"

"We won't have to carry him far.  We merely need to find somewhere to hide him, somewhere a little closer to the border of Imladris."

"But that would take us further from Rivendell!"

"True, but the Southrons won't be looking for an Elf in that direction.  We hide Elladan, then return to this camp, covering our tracks as we go.  Once in the camp, we set out toward Rivendell, being sure now to leave a clear trail.  The Southrons will be looking for two Elves fleeing in the direction of Rivendell.  They'll follow us.  I am sure we can keep ahead of them long enough to reach safety.  Glorfindel's scouts will be searching for us by now, so we only need to elude our pursuers for a short time, just long enough to reach the scouts.  And once we find them, we will lead them back to Elladan."   _Once we find the scouts_, Anomen thought to himself, _and once the Southrons are dead.  Anomen knew that the Southrons could not be allowed to escape.  He had heard the words of their leader: _the Dunlendings have shown us the way into Imladris; we will not need their services in the future_.  Anomen wished to lead on the slavers to decoy them away from Elladan but also to make sure that none survived to guide other raiders into Elrond's realm._

Elrohir began to allow himself to believe that Anomen's plan might work.  "Very well," he said softly.  "Let us make use of every remaining moment of darkness."  The two of them lifted Elladan gently and carried him from the clearing.  They had not gone very far when they came across a fallen tree, its trunk hollow.  Carefully they maneuvered the unconscious Elladan into this hiding place.

"What if he wakes up and wanders off?" worried Elrohir.

"Speak to him," urged Anomen.  "Urge him to stay quietly hidden.  I know he is unconscious, but your bond with him is so strong that he may yet hear and understand you."

Elrohir nodded and bent down to the opening in the trunk.  "Elladan, we will come back for you; meanwhile, stay still—do not stray!"  He straightened up and helped Anomen scatter some broken branches in front of the fissure.  Then the two of them turned back toward the Southron camp, carefully obliterating all signs of their passage as they went.

Once back at the camp, they did exactly as they had planned.  They set off toward Rivendell, making no effort whatsoever to hide their trail.  At first they ran as quickly as they could, but Anomen soon insisted that they go slower.

"Why?" asked Elrohir.  "Should we not try to stay well out of their reach?"

"No," answered Anomen.  "If we pull too far ahead, they may give up and turn back.  That would take them toward Elladan.  We must let them think that they have an excellent chance of catching us; their greed will then draw them onward."  Anomen hesitated.  "And there is another reason that we must encourage them to keep up the pursuit."

Quickly Anomen explained his plan to lead the Southrons to a patrol so that the slave-traders might be slain.  To his surprise, Elrohir did not look horrified or disgusted.  Instead, he nodded in somber agreement.

"This does not trouble you?" Anomen asked in astonishment.  "Were you not horrified when you saw that I had cut the throat of the Southron guard?"

"I was horrified, yes, but only because I thought that you were in grave danger.  I was shocked to see you in the camp, but I was not shocked at your action."  He paused. "And I saw what that Southron and his ilk did to the Dunlendings."

Anomen had spent a lifetime holding back forbidden tears, but now he could not stop a few from springing to his eyes, so glad was he that Elrohir was not disgusted with him.  He was not happy that he had killed the Southron, but he believed that the death was a necessary one, and he was relieved to find that Elrohir thought so as well.

The two friends jogged on steadily for several hours, knowing that each step they took led the Southrons one step away from Elladan and one step closer to the scouts.  After awhile, however, Elladan began to fear that the Southrons were following too closely.

"Anomen, do you hear that?" he asked at last.  Anomen paused and listened carefully.  Yes, he could make out the sounds of heavily booted feet.  But he heard another sound as well.

"Elrohir, a patrol draws near!"

"Let us hurry then!"

"No! Let us go even slower!"

"Is your brain warg-addled!?  Do you want them to capture us!?"

"Elrohir, if we let them catch up with us a little more, mayhap they will become so excited that they will lose all wariness—and that will be all the better for our warriors!"

Elrohir thought for a moment and then grinned.  "Anomen, now that I know how devious you can be, I will never trust you again!"

Anomen returned the grin.  He could almost pretend that the events of the last few days had never taken place, that he was still an elfing rather than a warrior who had slain his first foe.

The two friends resumed a steady trot, but at a slightly slower pace.  After awhile  voices as well as footsteps reverberated through the woods.

"They can't be far enough.  I'm sure of that."

"Let's pick up the pace.  I can't wait to get my hands on those two brats.  Pity they're so valuable—I'd like to skin them both."

"I think," whispered Elrohir, "that we might go just a trifle faster, don't you think, Anomen?"

Anomen nodded, and they sped up from a trot to a run.  Anomen was convinced that they were within yards of the patrol, and he did not think it would matter at this point if he and Elrohir put a little distance between themselves and the Southrons.

Even Anomen was surprised, however, when he and Elrohir burst into a clearing and found themselves in the midst of the patrol.  The mounted Elves seemed to be waiting for them, as indeed they were.  The scouts had heard Elrohir and Anomen's approach as easily as the two young Elves had heard theirs. 

"Glorfindel," gasped Anomen, "a band of Southrons is pursuing us.  They are very close!"

Glorfindel nodded calmly as if this news also was no surprise to him.  "Up into that tree, the two of you.  Berenmaethor, you lead your group to the left; Taurmeldir, you lead yours to the right.  I will remain here."

Elrohir and Anomen scrambled into the tree, and all the other Elves but Glorfindel vanished into the woods on either side of their leader.  Scarcely minutes later, the Southrons huffed into the clearing, pulling up short in surprise when they found themselves confronting a solitary Elf on horseback.  After a moment of hesitation, however, the leader found his voice.

"Well, boys, here's that lone Elf I was talking about last night."  He drew his sword and laughed, and his fellow slavers drew their swords as well.  Still laughing, the Southron leader took a step forward.  It was the last step he ever took.  He fell, his head, neck, and torso riddled with arrows.  The remaining Southrons, with a foolhardiness born of stupidity and stubbornness, split up and rushed into the woods on either side to seek out the slayers of their leader.  Elrohir and Anomen could not see what transpired, but no Southron ever returned to the clearing.  Instead, the scouts stepped out wiping their swords.

Glorfindel looked up into the tree where Elrohir and Anomen had hidden themselves.  "Come down now and tell me of Elladan.  Does he live?"

Elrohir and Anomen scrambled down from the tree even more hastily than they had ascended it.

"Elladan is alive," cried Elrohir, "but he is badly hurt!  We can lead you to him!"

"Do both of you know where he is?"

"Yes!" declared Elrohir.

"Then I want you to return to Rivendell with Berenmaethor.  Anomen will ride with me and guide me to Elladan."

"But I want to be with Elladan," protested Elrohir.

"I understand, Elrohir, but, although I suspect you have not complained of it, you are badly bruised, are you not?  Anomen is uninjured.  I believe I will be able to travel faster with him as my guide.  And speed is of importance in this case, is it not?"

Reluctantly Elrohir conceded that this was so, and Berenmaethor pulled him up behind him.  Escorted by a number of the scouts, they turned toward Rivendell.  Glorfindel and Anomen, meanwhile, accompanied by Taurmeldir and the remaining scouts, rode toward the border of Imladris.

TBC


	5. An Unexpected Reunion

**An Unexpected ****Reunion******

            Glorfindel urged his horse onward.  Elrohir had told Anomen that his twin had never woken up after being flung against the pine tree during the struggle with the Southrons.  Glorfindel was greatly concerned at hearing this.

The Elves came to the Southron camp, empty but for the bodies of the Dunlendings and the odor of death, silent save for the buzzing of flies.  The corpses of the murdered hunters were already beginning to swell in the heat.  Oddly, their faces had been covered.  Glorfindel was surprised that the Southrons had bothered to grant their victims that dignity, small as it was.  Later he would see that the bodies were disposed of more properly.  For now, he and Anomen dismounted so that Anomen could better lead him to Elladan's hiding place.  Anomen and Elrohir had done an excellent job of covering their tracks, so Anomen had to look carefully for landmarks in order to retrace his way to the fallen tree.  After a few minutes, he was sure of his path, and he hastened forward, breaking into a run when he spied the tree.  As he came up to it, he flung himself onto his belly so that he could peer inside.  He gasped.  The hollow trunk was empty, the branches that had hidden the opening cast to one side.  Anomen wept unashamedly.  He did not care that Glorfindel was standing there looking down at him.  His friend was gone.  He had felt sorrow at having to kill a man, but that grief was nothing to what he felt now.

"Do not be so troubled," said a gentle voice.  Both Glorfindel and Anomen swiveled in astonishment at hearing that voice.

"Mithrandir!" they cried simultaneously.

"Aye," he said calmly.  "That is indeed my name.  I am glad to see you have not forgotten it."

Had circumstances been less dire, Glorfindel would have laughed at the wizard's self-deprecating humor.  "Mithrandir, I am afraid that you have arrived at a time of great sadness.  You are of course welcome to return with us to Rivendell, but you will be invited to take your place in a procession of mourning rather than at a feast of celebration."  

"Perhaps you should hear my story before you invite me to participate in any such procession.  Several days ago, as I was returning from Lothlórien, I came upon tracks of men whom I did not deem to be Rangers.  As I followed these strangers, I saw that they intended to approach Rivendell in secret, for they avoided the usual paths followed by emissaries and traders with legitimate reasons for entering the realm of Lord Elrond.  I feared they were up to no good, and even though the tracks were not fresh, I resolved to continue trailing the intruders.  As it turns out, my quest was to be brief.  This morning I caught up with some of those men; indeed, it can be said that I stumbled over them—for they were dead.  I covered their faces and began to gather firewood for a pyre.  As I stooped beside a fallen tree to pick up some branches, I heard the rotten trunk of that tree make a most peculiar sound—"

"Elladan!" shouted Anomen.  "Elladan!"

"peculiar sound.  Peering into an opening I found that a bewildered looking Elfling was looking back at me."

"But where is he, Mithrandir!?  Where is he!?"

"I could not very well examine his injuries whilst he was wedged into a stump.  I extricated him from the hole and carried him to a stream so that I would have water enough to clean his head wound and other injuries.  He is resting now, and I was just returning to the clearing to resume tending to the dead when I heard you approaching."

 Anomen laughed and leapt like an Elfing—which, Glorfindel reminded himself, he in fact was.  Actually, Glorfindel felt like laughing and leaping himself, but he knew that he had matters to attend to.

"Should he be moved, Mithrandir?  Should we set out for Rivendell?"

"No, he must lie still at least another day.  I have done all that can be done for him; it is rest that he needs now."

"Very well," replied Glorfindel.  "Taurmeldir," he called over his shoulder.  "Pick your fastest rider and send him to Rivendell with word that Elladan is safe.  Then set some of the others to gathering firewood for a pyre.  Let the remainder strike out and see if they can bring down some game for our supper."

"Mithrandir," asked Anomen.  "May I see Elladan?"

"You may _see Elladan if you promise not to wake him with these antics of yours."_

"Oh, I promise!   I swear by all the Ainur and by the Tarmenel, and I swear on the sword of Isildur, and I swear by the memory of Gil-galad and by the Silmaril of—"

Mithrandir laughed.  "That will do, Anomen.  I believe you.  I will take you to the stream.  I'd like to check over your injuries as well."

"Oh, I have none—just a few scratches from pushing my way through the undergrowth."

"Nevertheless, I would not want to have to tell Elrond that I left you untended."

Mithrandir turned and strode toward the stream with Anomen dancing happily at his side.

TBC


	6. A Novice No Longer

Uh oh, this is getting scary.  If I stop posting, will you send Orcs after me?  Thank you _dragonfly32_, _konzen_, and _Iawen__ Londea.  And thank you, __MoroTheWolfGod, who is like Oliver Twist—always asking for "More!"_

**A Novice No Longer**

            Elladan could not be moved the next day, or even the day after that.  As dawn broke on the third morning after the Elfling's rescue, Mithrandir sat by a dying fire puffing on his pipe, enjoying the last moments before the camp would begin to bustle with the full rising of the sun.  A movement caught his eye.  Anomen was stirring.  After tossing and turning a few moments, the young Elf sat up.  Mithrandir smiled when he saw that the youngling's eyes immediately darted toward the spot where Elladan lay sleeping comfortably.  The wizard blew a vaporous dragon from his pipe and sent it wafting toward Anomen, catching his attention.

            "Good morning, Mithrandir."

            "Yes, it is a good morning indeed.  I believe we will be able to break camp today.  Elladan is much improved.  We will have to ride softly at first, in short stages, but I believe in under a week you will be back in your comfortable bed in Rivendell."

            "I look forward to that, but I look forward even more to an end to the ceaseless hauling of water, gathering of wood, and"—Anomen hesitated—"and of the gutting of squirrels.  Glorfindel says I am still the youngest in the company and that these tasks will fall to me until an even younger Elf joins the company."

            "Yes, that is the way it has always been, and I approve of the system.  Keeps the younglings out of trouble."

            "Not always," said Anomen slyly.

            Mithrandir laughed.  "I am glad to see that you are your usual cheeky self.  I was afraid that after this experience you would be a much different Elf."

            "I—I am different, I think, Mithrandir."

            "Oh, I am sure that you are different.  Every experience makes us different from what we were before.  Notice I said that I was glad you are not _much different.  You are still fundamentally yourself, but a little more mature in your outlook, I warrant.  But tell me, in what way do __you see yourself to be different?_

Anomen wrinkled his face in thought.  "I think I have become squeamish.  When Glorfindel handed me that squirrel to clean two nights back, well, I—I, well my stomach felt a little odd, and, uh, I had to slip off behind the bushes, and, uh, I—"

"You may spare me the details," interrupted Mithrandir.  "I believe that I understand what you are trying to say.  Yet I notice you did not slip off last night when you were handed that brace of conies.  Is it squirrels alone that give you indigestion?"

"Cleaning the conies made me feel queasy, too, but I suppose I kept better control of myself—I know it is a task that must be done."

"Ah, a task that must be done—there are many such tasks in this life, are there not?  Conies must be cleaned, pots must be scoured, clothes must be washed.  Tedious tasks, although not as unpleasant as some."

"No," agreed Anomen, "not as unpleasant as some."

"Perhaps," mused Mithrandir, "the skinning of squirrels and the cleaning of conies reminds you of some such unpleasant task."

"Perhaps."

"You see, Anomen, you _are _not _much changed.  You were compassionate before you set out on this patrol, and you are compassionate still.  You are, however, more thoughtful about the limits that must be placed on compassion in the face of cupidity and cruelty.  That makes you more pragmatic but no less compassionate."_

"But, Mithrandir, I cut a man's throat!  I was not defending myself against an Orc who was seeking to slay me.  I slipped up behind a sleeping man and slashed his neck to the bone!"

"That man chose his own fate," Mithrandir replied calmly.  "He was trying to take the lives of two innocents—for enslaving a person is a way of taking a life just as surely as murder is.  What you did was both just and necessary.  For we cannot grant mercy at the cost of the lives of our friends—and that would have been the cost had you not acted as you did."

"My mind understands what you say—but why do I feel so sad?"

"Why should you not feel sad?  Are you an Orc who kills for pleasure, or an Elf who kills regretfully—even compassionately—because he must?  It is because you feel as you do that I know that you are changed, but not _much changed.  Indeed, it you did not feel this sorrow, I would fear for your soul."_

Anomen nodded thoughtfully.  "Will I feel this way after every battle?"

"I hope so, Anomen, I hope so."

Mithrandir's assessment of Elladan's condition had been an accurate one, and after a late and leisurely breakfast, the company set out on the journey to Rivendell.  The bodies of the Dunlendings had been consigned to the cleansing fire on the very day of Elladan's rescue, and the elven company had set up its camp out of sight of the clearing where the hunters had died.  Anomen was nonetheless relieved to be leaving the scene of those murders—and the place where he himself had killed a man.

They rode through the forest at a slow pace, stopping frequently, for they intended that first day only to return to the camp from whence the twins had been abducted.  The previous night, Taurmeldir's messenger, accompanied by Berenmaethor and Thoron, had rejoined the company, and they brought with him both messages from Elrond and extra horses.  Mithrandir and Anomen thus each had a mount.  Mithrandir at first rode beside Glorfindel, and Anomen rode beside Elladan, who, well-bundled, sat before Taurmeldir.  Elladan had insisted that he could ride on his own, but Mithrandir had refused to listen to his pleas.

The day was wearing on toward dusk when Mithrandir dropped back and told Anomen that Glorfindel wanted to speak with him.  Apprehensively, Anomen spurred his horse to the head of the line and fell in beside Glorfindel, who nodded at him but appeared to be deep in thought.  After several minutes, he at last addressed Anomen.

"Anomen, I fear that I must make a difficult decision.  When [] returned from Rivendell, he brought not only messages and horses but also Elrohir's account of your actions.  The slave raid and its aftermath are being much discussed in Rivendell."

Anomen was certain that he was to be barred from any further patrols for a century at the very least.  Miserably, he looked down at his horse's mane and studied its intricate braiding.

Glorfindel continued, "Now I am confronted with a very great dilemma.  Both Berenmaethor and Taurmeldir have approached me and spoken very vigorously about this matter."

So, thought Anomen, it was not just Glorfindel who did not think him ready to join the warriors.

"Yes, it is a difficult matter, indeed," sighed Glorfindel.  "Berenmaethor claims that I should assign you to his patrol, but Taurmeldir argues equally as hard that you should join his.  I respect them both, and I have been at a loss as to how to settle the dispute."  Glorfindel glanced toward Anomen and smiled slightly at the look of astonishment on the face of the Elfling.  He knew perfectly well what the young one had been thinking, for he had noticed that Anomen was uncomfortable in his presence.

"Then I thought to myself, 'Taurmeldir and Berenmaethor are not the only ones concerned in this matter.  Perhaps I should ask Anomen whether he has any thoughts as to which patrol it would be best for him to join'."

"I think," said Anomen slowly, "I think I should join Taurmeldir's patrol."

"Have you a reason for this choice."

"Yes," Anomen said, with greater confidence.  "When not under your direct command, Berenmaethor's scouts keep to the river valley and the ravines, whilst Taurmeldir's warriors usually patrol deep in the forest.  I believe that I would be of the greatest use to forest patrol."

Glorfindel nodded thoughtfully.  "Well said.  That will be my recommendation to Elrond.  He, of course, has the right of final approval." 

"Is that all, my Lord Glorfindel?" Anomen asked hopefully.

"No, I have one more issue to discuss with you.  Anomen, I am a balrog-slayer, not an eater of Elfings.  You do not need to be afraid of me.  I know I was somewhat, ah, irked by your habit of wandering off when you first came to Rivendell, but you should not mistake the bluster of an old and irritable soldier for genuine anger."

Anomen again looked down at his horse's mane.  He did not trust himself to meet the eye of the warrior.  "I was afraid you would be angry because I disobeyed your and Lord Elrond's command to stay in camp."

"Anomen, there is something you must understand about the giving and following of orders.  A leader gives the best command he can, depending upon the conditions that he believes to exist at one moment in time, and when he learns that the situation has changed, he issues new orders.  But if the leader cannot communicate with his warriors when the situation changes, then it is the warriors who must exercise their judgment as to whether or not to follow the original command.  When Elrond ordered you to remain in the camp, he could not have known that you would be forced to decide whether to pursue slavers who, if their plans had not been thwarted, would now have been quit of Imladris.  Had you waited for the scouts to return, we would not have had the advantage of terrain, and it would have been much harder—perhaps even impossible—to have rescued Elladan and Elrohir.  Indeed, if the Southrons had continued dragging Elladan along, without proper care or rest, it is likely that of the two he at least would have died.  Like a true warrior, you exercised your judgment, and you did so wisely."

Anomen looked at Glorfindel gratefully.  "Does Lord Elrond think as you do?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself," replied Glorfindel, gesturing toward the old camp, which they were just entering.  In the middle of the camp Elrond stood calmly, with Elrohir, not so calm, at his side.

"Elladan, Anomen!  Elladan, Anomen!"  Elrohir was leaping and laughing much as Anomen had when Mithrandir revealed that Elladan was safe.  Elrond raised his eyebrows at his cavorting son, but Elrohir paid him no heed.

Anomen slid off his mount, and Elrohir embraced him.  Elrond lifted Elladan down from [] mount and then fended off Elrohir's attempts to embrace his twin.

"Come," he scolded, "are you trying to rebreak Elladan's ribs?  Go and expend your energy on something useful.  Are there no pots to be scrubbed?"

"I have scrubbed them all, Ada," Elrohir proclaimed triumphantly.  He turned to Anomen, "When we set up camp last night, those pots we were scouring when the camp was attacked were _still_ there, and they were as dirty as ever.  Ada set me to scouring them straightaway."

"You talk," said Elrond in his best deadpan manner, "as if you thought the dishes would have either walked off or washed themselves in your absence." 

Elrohir grinned.  "Mithrandir, is there any charm that would make dirty dishes run off so we wouldn't have to trouble ourselves over them anymore?"

"I am afraid," the wizard replied gravely, "that those sorts of charms exist only in the realm of fiction.  You must perforce resign yourself to living in the real world."

Elrohir sighed.  "But that is so _boring!"_

Elrond raised his eyebrows nearly to his hairline.  "So you consider being attacked and dragged off by Southrons to have been _boring."_

Chastened, Elrohir blushed.  "No, Ada, that wasn't boring."

Just at that moment, two scouts strode into the camp with squirrels and conies dangling from their packs.  If Elrond had been inclined to smirk, he would have done so.  However, he was not so inclined.  He merely contented himself with nodding towards the game.  "Elrohir, here is something that will stave off boredom.  You and Anomen can race to see which of you can prepare dinner the fastest.  Whoever finishes first—without scorching anything, mind you—can get out of washing up afterward."

Never, thought Glorfindel later, had such a delicious meal been served up so quickly.

After Anomen and Elrohir finished scrubbing the pots—Elrohir had helped even though he had won the competition—Elrond found time to speak with Anomen.

"So, I understand from Elrohir than your behavior has been quite 'heroic'."

Anomen winced at the word.  He was still a little fearful that Elrond would consign him to long hours in the armory.  Elrond read his expression and laughed.

"Glorfindel and I have talked; I know you were afraid that I would be angry.  Be assured that I am not.  You made a good decision.  Oh perhaps I should say that you made several good decisions.  For you had to face more than one difficult choice, did you not?"

Anomen nodded somberly.

"I did not expect that on your first patrol you would be forced to exercise your judgment under such perilous circumstances.  Nor did I think that you were ready to do so.  I sent you and the twins on this patrol because I thought you unlikely to encounter any foe.  That part of the forest has hitherto been little touched by evil.  I was doubly wrong.   I was wrong in thinking any part of the forest to be safe, and I was wrong in believing that you were not ready to make difficult decisions.  Anomen, for my misjudgments, I beg your forgiveness."

Anomen did not know what to say.  These were not the words he had been preparing himself to hear.

            Elrond waited patiently for his reply.  "Ion-nin, have I your pardon?"

            Anomen thought back to the words of Glorfindel.  "Lord Elrond, you made the best choices that you could, given the knowledge that you had.  How can I pardon you when you have committed no offense?"

            Elrond looked at him gravely.  "Mithrandir is right—oh, yes, I have talked to him as well—you have matured much in a very short period of time.  You are indeed a novice no longer."

            "Of course," Elrond added with a smile, "don't think for a moment that your hard-won wisdom will get excused from the usual duties."

            But Anomen didn't care how many pots he had to scour, fires he had to build, or squirrels he had to skin.  All he could think of were those words of praise: "a novice no longer."

_The end of this installment of the continuing adventures of Anomen (aka Legolas).__  TBC in a new story._


End file.
